The Unspoken Question
by e1evenc1ara
Summary: You don't have to be alone to feel lonely (Twelve/Clara, spoilers for "Deep Breath")


**— MILD SPOILERS FOR DEEP BREATH (EPISODE 8X01) —**

**continue at your own peril**

* * *

She plucked the clump of hair that had collected on her hairbrush and threw it in the wastebasket near the bathroom sink. Clara stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered when her face had gotten so sad; she used to smile more. She used to know less.

She shut off the light and walked across the hallway to her bedroom, scratching an itch on the back of her neck that wouldn't go away. She should probably have that looked at, but didn't have much time to see a doctor. If she weren't too tired, she'd appreciate the irony of that statement.

She crawled into bed and pulled the duvet over her shoulder with a deep sigh, snuggling onto her side as she stared at the dark wall across from her. Her thoughts were racing like the jumbled frequencies on a wireless radio, but she shut her eyes anyway.

_Go to sleep, Clara._

Someone tapped her shoulder. She sucked in a gasp that she nearly choked on as she scrambled into a sitting position, releasing the breath when she saw the Doctor's familiar features staring back at her in the darkness.

"_Doctor_!" She flicked on the lamp. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

He blinked. "You were asleep."

"Yes, that is what I generally do in my bedroom. What are you doing here?"

He stared at her headboard. "I needed to talk to you."

"Couldn't it have waited until morning?"

"No."

She dialled back her frustration when she heard the gravity in his tone. "What's the matter?"

Clara pulled her knees up to her chest as he sat on the edge of her bed, sighing despondently. "I don't really know."

She nearly smiled. "You broke into my bedroom to tell me that?"

"I didn't _break_…" He pushed off the bed with another sigh. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," she said quickly, grabbing his hand and pulling him back to sit. She didn't let go. "I know you're still confused. Still rearranging."

"It's funny—I still feel like me, but _not_ me. Do you ever get that feeling?"

She breathed a tiny laugh. "Sometimes, yeah."

"What do you do?" he asked eagerly, shifting closer to her. "How do you make it stop?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Just wait 'til it's over, I guess."

He bowed his head in disappointment, like he had feared that's what she would say. "Right, yes. I hate waiting."

Her eyes softened as she regarded his crestfallen expression. Slowly, she lifted her hand to his face, a face she had visually explored but never touched until this moment. His eyes met hers immediately upon contact, and she smiled at the feel of his soft skin pressed against her palm—older, but still his.

"You know, this face is growing on me."

"Good, 'cause it's already grown on me."

It took her a moment to catch the joke, so when she laughed, she did so loudly and abruptly. He was still funny, still mad. Still the Doctor.

"Do you want some tea or something?" she asked. She stroked his cheek with her thumb.

He shook his head. "No, I should probably go, let you sleep. You get really cranky if you don't get enough rest."

"Oi," she replied sharply, pinching the side of his arm.

"Ow! See what I mean?"

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck in a rush of affection, trying her best to ignore how tense he grew at her closeness. He released a careful sigh as she ducked her head against his shoulder, and for some reason she didn't want to let go. She wanted to hold onto him until he felt the same—no, not the same—but close. She wanted to feel close to him again.

He cleared his throat. "I think I lost the hugging… thing. Not very good at it anymore."

"It's not very difficult."

"No, I know; it just feels funny. Not you—_you_ don't feel funny. Or… no—yes, you do. You're all squidgy."

She pulled back and smiled sadly at him. "Maybe you'll get better at it with practice."

He stared at her. She stared back. Down the hall, the carved wooden clock her granddad gave her ticked loudly.

"Goodnight, Clara."

"Goodnight, Doctor."

She shut off the light after he closed the door behind him and fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She spent the rest of the night dreaming of the stars.

* * *

They visited one of those hot, muggy planets where they did a lot of running for their lives, their bodies sticky with sweat and grime by the time they made it back to the TARDIS. Clara announced she was going for a shower and the Doctor didn't comment—just set about navigating the TARDIS through the vortex.

Steam fogged up the mirror almost immediately after she turned the water on. She discarded her clothes in her bedroom and walked into the bathroom wrapped in a cream-coloured towel, which she started to peel back until she spotted a man's blurry reflection in the foggy mirror.

"_Bloody_—!" she screeched, spinning on her heel with her hands tightly grasping the folds of the towel to her chest. "Doctor, _what_ are you doing?"

He glanced down at her feet and then lifted his gaze to hers, frowning lightly. "Did you say something?"

"What?" she squeaked, her cheeks flushing pink.

He nodded his head towards the door behind him. "Earlier. Back in the control room. Did you say something?"

She stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "I said I was going for a shower…"

His eyes bulged and then lowered to the towel she was clutching like he'd just realised she was standing there naked. "Right! Yes, you did. Sorry. I'll… Sorry."

She watched him run out the door with a perplexed frown and shook her head. She was never going to figure this one out.

* * *

They were having dinner together at a terrace restaurant overlooking the beach. Well, Clara was—the Doctor claimed he wasn't hungry, although he had encouraged her to order a side of chips she didn't want. She felt particularly chatty that evening. Perhaps it was the glass of wine or the evening breeze in her hair or the way the Doctor kept… staring at her chest.

"And I… erm… Doctor, could you look up at my face, please?"

"Hmm?" he replied, still staring. He shook his head and then met her gaze somewhat guiltily. "Sorry?"

"You weren't listening to me."

He blinked. "Yes, I was."

"_Were_ you?" she replied, crossing her arms.

"You ran into an old friend from school while waiting in line for coffee, and he turned out to be the father of one of your students." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Wouldn't he be a little young to father a teenager?"

"He was an older friend from school," she explained, a slight flush creeping to her cheeks. "Sort of… older friend."

"Ah," he replied knowingly, although she could tell he hadn't caught on at all. A light flickered behind his eyes. "_Ah_. So… you… you two were..?"

She she suddenly found the tablecloth fascinating.

He narrowed his eyes curiously. "How much older?"

Clara cleared her throat. "Is there a dessert menu?"

She lifted the thick menu up to cover her flushing cheeks and glanced at him over it. He smiled. She couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

Something woke her, but it took her a long time to realise what it was. With a frown, she stared at her TARDIS wardrobe and then glanced around for any light, listened for any sound, and wondered if she had just—

"CLARA!"

She dashed from the bed and ran blindly into the corridor, but luckily she'd grown accustomed to the path that led between her bedroom and the Doctor's. She'd never seen him actually sleep in there, but she had once found him tripping over his shoelaces while getting dressed one morning and had since committed the location to memory. She could tell by the way he was now shouting her name that he wasn't in distress because he'd fallen on the floor. Something was wrong.

Her body slapped hard against the doorway when she arrive. She breathlessly pushed through the door as the Doctor shouted her name again.

"CLARA! Cla… _Clara_…"

He was sound asleep in bed, fully dressed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She rushed over to his bedside and sat on the edge of the mattress, lifting her hand to his shoulder. "Doctor, shh. You're dreaming. It's alright."

"_Clara_… Clara…"

The way he breathed her name tugged at her heartstrings. She pressed her palm to his cheek, surprised at how cool his skin felt to the touch. She smoothed her hand across his skin, her fingers drifting into his hair as his heavy breathing evened out.

He finally opened his eyes and stared at her like she were a ghost, haunting him. "What are you doing here?" he spoke in a voice deep with sleep.

"You shouted my name."

"No, I didn't."

"You were dreaming."

Her hand fell to his chest when he sat up. Without thinking, he grasped it in his own. "I was?"

"Yeah. Are you OK?"

"I'm fine." He massaged her hand between both of his while he stared hard at a point past her shoulder. "Sorry, why are you here again?"

"Doctor, what's the matter with you?" she asked carefully, lifting her other hand to his shoulder as she looked into his eyes. "You've been acting really strange…"

"I regenerated," he reminded her.

"I had noticed."

"I'm different now."

"No, I know that, but that's not what I mean. You keep…"

She sighed. He lifted an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I don't know how to explain it. You seem distracted, like you want to tell me something, but it's like the afterthought of an afterthought."

Clara had barely finished speaking when, with a deep breath, the Doctor leaned forward and kissed her. A small squeak died in her throat as his lips moved against hers with immediate and abrupt passion.

He then pulled back with a gasp, his eyes wide and horrified. "No—_no no no_! That wasn't… I didn't mean to do that!"

"What exactly _did_ you mean to do?" she asked a little more breathlessly than she would have liked. Her lips still tingled.

He shook his head rapidly. "I don't know, Clara. I mean it—I really don't know."

The tension in her chest unravelled as a sudden understanding settled inside of her. Her eyes softened as she watched him. "Doctor, are you lonely?"

He was almost amused. "What? No, of course not. I've got you."

She smiled tightly. "You don't have to be alone to feel lonely."

He stared at her like she was nuts and then slowly shook his head. "I'm not lonely. I'm not."

She lifted her hand to cup his cheek and the Doctor stared at her palm like he was worried it would burn him. She smiled sadly. "Doctor, how can I help?"

"I'm not lonely, Clara."

His reply was too pathetic to be credible. "What are you, then?"

He bowed his head. Clara heart thudded in her chest and she contemplated leaning forward and kissing him again, but before the thought could properly solidify in her mind, the Doctor pushed himself past her so he could hop from the bed.

"I should check our location. Make sure we haven't been sucked into a parallel universe or something."

He closed the door behind him, which she interpreted as a desire to be left alone. Suddenly exhausted, she lay back on his bed and stared at the dark ceiling, wishing she knew what to do with him. He used to be so much easier to manage.

* * *

She panted against his neck, her body pressed heavily into his as the air around them grew hot and muggy. It was dark and damp and everything smelled like freshly overturned earth. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Clara realised they'd been buried alive.

Her breathing grew rapid and shallow, her body thrumming with anxiety as she shifted on top of him. The Doctor placed his hand on the small of her back and then dug his sonic from the inner pocket of his jacket with some difficulty since they didn't have much elbow room and he was doing his best to avoid touching her breasts. He set the sonic on a low frequency and then scanned the tight space they were in. The green light illuminated the white lining of the coffin, and Clara calmed slightly when she saw his face.

"We're not too deep," he assured her calmly. "It's OK, Clara. We'll get out of this."

She shook her head rapidly and buried her face in his neck. "Oh god, Doctor, oh god oh god oh god…"

"Don't panic on me now, Clara," he said with a gentle chuckle. "We'll get out of here; we'll be alright."

She licked her lips and nodded, her breathing still heavy. "I know. I'm sorry—_I know_."

He patted the small of her back as she calmed herself down, his gaze lifting above his head as he shifted his body underneath hers. Clara's eyes widened and she swallowed hard, her breathing instantly going still.

"Doctor… Is that—?"

He didn't miss a beat. "That's the sonic."

"The sonic's in your hand."

He stared at the glowing instrument like it had just committed treason. Clara lifted both eyebrows, a hint of a smile on her face.

He frowned at her. "Shut up. We haven't got enough air left to talk about this."

Clara was too relieved when they finally did make it back to the surface to properly tease him about it, but she wasn't sure she could have done so without blushing furiously.

* * *

The door to their hotel room swung open and Clara beamed as she waddled inside, arms laden with heavy luggage, her sunglasses perched atop her head. She was beyond ready for a week of lying on the beach, sipping cocktails and laughing with the man behind her. Her smile fell when she got a good look at the room. In the centre of the cavernous space was a massive bed whose white duvet was decorated with red flower petals in the shape of a heart.

"Er, are you _sure_ this is our room?" she asked.

The Doctor came to stand beside her where he could survey the enormity of everything around him. A massive Jacuzzi was visible through the bathroom doorway. He blanched. "Oh… they gave us the honeymoon suite."

Clara laughed. "Why would they do that?"

"I might have asked for it."

She blinked up at him. "Why?"

He scratched the side of his head. "No idea."

* * *

A few weeks later, the TARDIS materialised in her bedroom while she was getting ready for bed. It blocked the door, essentially trapping her inside, so it was with a frown that Clara walked into the control room ready to ask him to move his bloody box out of the way. An empty room greeted her.

"Doctor?" she called.

No response. She searched the lower levels, glanced at the upper gallery, and then wandered the corridors until she found herself standing in front of his bedroom door. Fearing what she'd find on the other side, Clara pushed the door open to find the Doctor lying face-down on the floor, his jacket lying next to him like he'd passed out while getting dressed. She would have panicked, but the Doctor had recently taken to bouts of narcolepsy now that he still refused to sleep whenever he needed to. She knelt beside him and shook his shoulder.

"Doctor?"

"_Hrrn_."

"You're sleeping on the floor."

"_Hrmmuhma_."

With a sigh, she slid her hands under his arms and lifted him with a grunt of effort. He was a thin man, but an immensely heavy dead weight that she only just managed to sling onto the bed. She knelt beside him on the mattress and turned him onto his back, rearranging his limbs so that he looked somewhat comfortable. As she moved to pull away, he snaked an arm around her middle and pulled her snugly to his side.

"Doctor? Doctor…" she whispered, but he only released a sigh and continued breathing evenly in his sleep.

She contemplated extracting herself from his grasp, but instead decided to snuggle into his side and wrap her arm around his middle. She'd been preparing for bed anyway; she might as well get some rest. She closed her eyes and mumbled a goodnight against his chest, which was the last thin she could until her eyes opened hours later.

His fingers were moving delicately through her hair. They stilled when she shifted to look at him and she frowned at him when she noticed he was holding his breath.

"Doctor, I know you're not asleep."

He released the breath but kept up the ruse of being asleep. She blew a puff of air on his face. He flinched.

"Stop it," he muttered.

"Stop pretending to be asleep."

"I wasn't pretending; I _was_ asleep."

"Mm-hmm."

She was still pressed into his side, incredibly close and intimate, which she hadn't thought about it until they fell silent. Now she was acutely aware of every spot where their bodies touched, specifically where his palm rested on her hip.

"Why did you park the TARDIS in my bedroom?" she asked.

He opened his eyes. "I didn't."

"Oh, but you did."

"Huh. I must have missed."

Clara lay her head on his shoulder. "If you say so."

He tilted his head towards her, straining to look at her face. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

She twisted one of the buttons on his shirt. "You tell me. You're the one who keeps doing things with no explanation."

"Like what?"

"Showing up in my bedroom in the middle of the night, calling my name when nothing's wrong, booking honeymoon suites and walking in on me in the shower…" She paused before saying the next one. "Kissing me."

He went completely still. "_You're_ the one in my bedroom."

"I am."

He glanced between them. "And in my bed. I wasn't in my bed before…"

"No, I had to haul you up off the floor. You must have passed out again."

"And you just decided to crawl into bed with me?"

"You wrapped your arm around me!"

He almost smiled. "But you stayed."

She opened her mouth to protest, but found she had no reply to that. The Doctor was watching her with a hopeful expression on his face, but Clara doubted he was aware of it. She didn't think he wasn't aware of much anymore.

"Did you want me to stay?" she asked.

"I was asleep."

"Doctor, answer my question."

His hand slid up from her hip to her waist. She suppressed a shudder.

"I told you, Clara," he said, his voice velvety soft. "I'm not your boyfriend."

It was a reminder from a conversation they had a long time ago, one where he made himself and his intentions clear. Things had been pretty murky since then.

Her eyes drifted to his mouth. "I know."

She leaned forward without thinking, her breath hot on his lips before he closed the space between them and kissed her. Their lips moved together softly, hesitantly, as if they were afraid the other was going to change their mind. Clara shifted against him, her hand stroking up and down his side as he moaned softly against her lips. He crossed his other arm over his chest to touch the side of her neck, his fingers slipping into her hair as the kiss deepened.

The box springs creaked as she shifted on top of him, parting her knees on either side of his waist as she kissed him slowly, carefully, and with restrained passion. She had thought her attraction to him had gone away when he'd changed his face—not because he'd gotten older, but because he wasn't the same anymore. But his body was lean beneath hers, his palms warm and soothing as they moved down her arms, her waist, and the backs of her thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted into him, rubbing purposefully against his cock, and he sighed shakily into her mouth before lowering his hands to her arse.

"Clara…"

She undulated again and he practically squeaked in reply. Clara whimpered softly with each motion, her breaths hot against his mouth as she ground her hips repeatedly against his. He clutched her to him and spoke her name over and over as she lowered her palms to his chest to feel the rapid beating of his hearts.

"Doctor?"

It was a question; it was a request. It was a statement of intent that she hoped he would reciprocate.

He did. He helped her remove her pyjama bottoms and then lay back while she unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes staring up at her unblinkingly. He sat up to help her remove the shirt and then wrapped his arms around her once it was discarded.

"Clara, we don't have to…" he muttered against her lips.

She allowed herself to breathe for a moment before nodding. "Why would we have to?"

"Fair point."

They both ducked their heads as she made quick work of unfastening his belt and then his trousers. He released a gasp when she wrapped her hand around him and Clara met his eyes knowing that they couldn't turn back now, but luckily neither of them wanted to. He pulled her to his chest and kissed her fiercely, passionately, and it was with little grace and much fumbling that her top and his trousers were discarded to the bedroom floor.

Her jaw dropped with a strangled 'ah' when she lowered on top of him, the Doctor shifting into her fully before she was ready. Clara bit her lip and clutched his shoulders with biting fingernails while her body adjusted to him.

"What? What is it?" he asked breathlessly.

She shook her head; she needed a moment.

His brow furrowed. "Is there something wrong with it?"

Clara shook her head again, this time with a grin. "No, just… follow my lead, OK?"

He nodded and slid his palms up her back as she kissed him, her hips moving slowly against his. He thrust into her when she prodded his lips with her tongue and she released a carnal moan that made him do it again. Soon the bed was shaking and she was clutching to him desperately, gasping and moaning and whining with every rise and fall of her hips. She wanted to speak his name but couldn't bring her lips to form sounds other than the tiny gasps he drew from her mouth. Clara countered each of his movements until she felt overwhelmed. She laid her forehead against his temple and clutched his ribcage as he continued to move inside of her.

"Look at me—Clara, look at me—_Please_ look at me…"

She could tell he was nearing his release. Grasping his shoulders, she sat up and met his eyes through the curtain of hair that fell around her face.

"I…" he began. She nodded vigorously, urging him on. "I—oh _god_, Clara—I…"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I…"

She slammed her eyes shut. "Yes?"

"_Clara_…"

He didn't need to say it. "Yes… _yes_…" she agreed, matching his pace once again. Their breathing accelerated until he dug his fingertips into her backside and released a guttural moan that rumbled through his chest, his hips thrusting once, twice, and then falling still. Clara's eyes rolled back into her head and her jaw dropped, a tight squeak escaping her throat as she quaked around him.

She gasped for breath once it was over, like she'd been swimming underwater for ages and had just now broken the surface. They breathed heavily against each other's skin as their blood cooled and their hearts slowed, their limbs wrapping snugly around each other.

Clara pressed a tender kiss to his shoulder, and he responded by running his fingers through her hair and stroking her back. All she felt in that moment was happiness, a deep satisfaction that made her body glow and a giggle rise to her lips. She kissed him again, her happiness increasing when he kissed her back. He was present with her in that moment, something she appreciated after having kissed men who had been so wrapped up in work or football matches or idle thoughts about the weather that she had felt a strange sort of loneliness whenever their lips had met.

With the Doctor, she felt a true companionship. She didn't have to ask if he felt it too, which was strange since she was usually so unsure of what it was he was thinking or feeling. Now, she didn't even have to ask.

Carefully, the Doctor cradled her to his chest and shifted her onto her back, slipping from her for a moment while he settled on top of her. Clara smiled up at him and then gasped when he dipped back inside of her.

"What… What are you doing?" she breathed.

He grew very still. "I thought that was obvious."

"But you'd…" She nodded suggestively. "And _we_… And now you're…"

"I might need a full sentence."

"Does it just… _keep going_?" she asked almost shrilly, her eyes darting to where their bodies met.

A crooked smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "It doesn't take long to refuel the tank."

She wrinkled her nose at that analogy and the his smile melted.

"Should I stop?"

Clara could tell he dreaded her answer. She shook her head. "By all means, continue."

He resumed his movement, pushing into her repeatedly with less desperation, but more deliberately that before. Clara shut her eyes and bit her lower lip as she grasped his elbows, once again reduced to a puddle of breathy whimpers as his hips pounded into hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into her, her heels pressing into his backside as he groaned deeply in her ear.

Her back arched off the mattress and he quickened his pace to urge her on, keeping steady even after she sank back with a strangled cry. She slid her hands down his bum and gripped it firmly when he came, her jaw dropping along with his as he cried out against her chin.

They drew heavy breaths in and out of their lungs like they'd just run a marathon. He lowered his forehead to hers and she swallowed roughly, licking her lips before he covered them with his own for a deep, relaxed kiss that made her sleepy.

"Okay," she said. "I need a rest before you try that again."

He nodded sloppily. "Me too."

They held each other and laughed as the rush of endorphins and other hormones made them giddy. Clara wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him to her for another lazy kiss, one that seemed to pack years into the space of one minute. When the Doctor pulled back, his expression was sombre.

"I'm fairly certain this was an ill-advised move on my part," he said, but the corners of his lips lifted.

She beamed at him, her eyes falling to his lips. "Well, then I might have to have words with whoever it is you're getting this rubbish advice from."

He chuckled appreciatively and lowered his face to her hair, sighing heavily with contentment. She stroked the back of his head and closed her eyes, wearing a goofy grin as she savoured the warmth and feel of him all around her. His breathing quickly slowed, and with a frown she angled her cheek against his temple and whispered, "Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

She smiled in reply, amused but not surprised that he was passing out on top of her. "You good, then?" she added teasingly.

He released another sigh and hooked his arms underneath her, his palms grasping her shoulders. "Mm-hmm."

Clara kissed his temple and then thought about all of the little signs that had been stacking up over the past few months: the night he'd visited her bedroom, the time he followed her to the shower, that evening at dinner when he wouldn't stop staring at her breasts… the kiss, the sonic incident, the honeymoon suite, the arm that reached for her even in his sleep. He had silently been asking her a question for months now, one that, in retrospect, had taken her far too long to answer.

"I've always wanted you," she mumbled against his hairline. "Doctor, I will always want you."

He was already asleep, but Clara noticed his hold on her tighten as she followed shortly behind.


End file.
